


they don't know about you and i

by rookerrogue



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Gore, Oh god, Politics, Pre-War, Violence, they're both a little ooc but it's okay i guess, they're both assholes like.. Give TFP Orion A Personality 2k20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookerrogue/pseuds/rookerrogue
Summary: If Megatron really wants to, he can convince himself that Orion had done it for the influence, that he had wanted a Primacy and had been lying to Megatron this entire time just to get a ticket to the Council’s door.Well, they were certainly offering him a Primacy now, but even Megatron’s bitterness isn’t strong enough to believe that that had been what Orion wanted.However, it was what he got.Pre-war angsty Megop breakup fic!  Because there's nothing like a fucking shitty awful violent breakup between two strong willed people to kickstart a war that'll break your entire world.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime, Megatron/Orion Pax
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	they don't know about you and i

**Author's Note:**

> ``  
> She told me not to step on the cracks  
> I told her not to fuss and relax  
> Pretty little face stopped me in my tracks  
> But now she sleeps with one eye open  
> That's the price she'll pay  
> ``

_ Should I have done it differently? _

Orion sits down against the edge of a statue. It is of. . .  _ one  _ of the Thirteen, he knows, and on another day he would have named them in an instant, but not today.

Megatronus is long gone. They’d both shouted at each other, which was hardly an unusual occurrence-- hardly a fortnight went by without the two of them having some sort of wild disagreement about whatever it was they were writing at the time-- but this time, the argument lacked the safety, the undertones of fondness. All their previous arguments had been punctuated with laughter and undercut with sips of high-grade that Orion had smuggled in from Iacon. This time, Orion had not felt the security of knowing that after this, the two of them might end up tangled together recharging after several overloads. 

Megatronus had been angrier than Orion had ever witnessed, and it had been directed at  _ him. _

Which brings him back to his question.

_ Was that the right way to do it? _

Orion sighs, resting his helm in his hands. There was no doubt that he had  _ had  _ to do what he did, but. . . had he been too hasty? Not considerate enough? Had he strayed too far from Megatronus’ ideals?

He hadn’t thought he had. He  _ doesn’t  _ think he has. But Megatronus is angry, and if it’s really and truly Orion’s fault, well. . .

It hadn’t seemed like such an enormous problem, back in the Council. He’d been aware that Megatronus would be upset, of course, at Orion’s sudden and public change to their ideology. But it had seemed more important to seize the moment than to worry about consequences in terms of Megatronus’ approval. Wasn’t the Cause greater than all of them? 

The Council had been ready to throw them out, Orion knows. Megatronus is too radical, too unrelentingly reactionary. He would never have been given the time of day, the  _ Cause  _ would never have been taken seriously if Orion had not spoken up. He may have changed the words, and he may have put too many of his own ideas into the thing, but at the end of the day the Council had  _ listened.  _ They had been convinced. 

Was that not the important part?

_ Well,  _ Orion reflects, looking up at the sky,  _ not for Megatronus. _

The mech had been absolutely furious at him, and Orion knows there is reason for his anger. It worries him, however. What if Megatronus no longer wishes to speak with him?

He’d counted on being able to explain himself, but something tells him that Megatronus will be still much too angry to hear him out.

_ I did the best I could. _

Orion sighs shakily, putting his head back into his hands. He rubs at his optics with tired fingers and shuts them for a moment, trying to make sense of the situation. Some part of him knows that if he does not reach out to Megatronus now and try to fix this, he might never be able to fix it. He does not want to lose Megatronus, but. . . he had been  _ wrong. _

There it was.

Megatronus is too vicious, too ruthless, too ready to sacrifice  _ actual lives  _ in the process of achieving his dream. How many times during their discussions and arguments had Orion told him that? He had obviously listened to exactly  _ none  _ of what Orion had to say, so he had no one to blame but himself for Orion’s actions in the Council. 

The Decepticons were a great movement, a world-changing movement, potentially. But the vision Megatronus had showed the Council. . . the change to the world would be for the worse. People would  _ die. _

Orion had been right.

He lifts his head from his hands. There is nothing to do about it now; Megatronus will continue to smolder in his anger, but that is unimportant. The Cause awaits. 

Megatronus will get over it.

He has to.

In Kaon, there is the sound of crowds, and shouting, and chanting. There were always sounds of crowds and shouting and chanting, but today, Megatron realizes, they are different.

These noises were the sounds of a rally, a Decepticon rally. Those are  _ his  _ chants. Those are  _ his  _ people. 

That is  _ his  _ Cause.

And there is only one mech who would dare to be holding a rally in his place.

He barrels through the streets, following the sound and growing angrier and angrier at the mecha blocking his path. How  _ dare  _ Orion?! 

The crowds grow thicker and he is forced to push through them. He can see the stage now. Orion stands upon it, a Decepticon flag waving above his head, his arms waving animatedly. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Megatron shouts, pushing his way through the crowd. “Hey! Pax!”

“. . . Of the Council,” Orion was saying. “And we can make the difference--”

“Pax!” Megatron bellows. 

Orion falters. He looks down from the stage he was standing on, and his eyes meet Megatron’s in the crowd. 

The crowd, impossibly, quiets with him.

“Megatronus?” he says faintly. “Why are you--”

“You shouldn’t be doing this after the Council,” Megatron says flatly. “Not on this stage and under that flag.”

“I’m still a part of the cause!” Orion objects, his voice indignant.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t think you should be doing this,” Megatron snarls. He wants to hurt Orion. “And I don’t think you’re part of the Cause.”

“Why?” Orion demands. “Just because I don’t agree with some parts of  _ your  _ ideology?”

“With the most important parts!” 

“And who decides what’s the most important?” Orion folds his arms. “I thought we were in this together.”

“So did I.”

Orion makes some sort of angry scoff. “Oh, can you-- can you come off your damned high horse about that?”

“About  _ what?”  _ Megatron demands. He steps closer to the stage, pushing a smaller mech out of the way. _ “ _ About you betraying me? Betraying the Cause?”

_ “YOU ARE NOT THE CAUSE!”  _ Orion shouts, balling his hands into fists and advancing closer to Megatron.

Megatron stops where he stands. He had expected something like this, but hearing Orion say it still hurts, just the smallest bit. 

Pax sighs, bringing his hands to his face. “Megatronus, listen. I don’t want us to fight like this--”

“Oh, you  _ don’t?” _

“No! I don’t!”

“You shouldn’t have done what you did at the council, perhaps,” Megatron accuses, pointing a finger toward the stage. 

“So you’re _ really _ ground off about that,” Orion says, shaking his head. As if it was some kind of trivial matter Megatron should simply brush off and forget about.

“Are we going to do everything we did before?” Megatron demands. “Hash over all the same arguments?”

“It’s like you don’t  _ want  _ to fix things between us,” Orion says helplessly.

“Maybe I don’t!” Megatron snarls.

“What-- what do you mean, you don’t?”

“You ruined  _ everything,  _ Orion.” Megatron begins to advance on the stage again.

“I saved everything!”

“Not for me!” Megatron shouts. “Not for the Cause! Just for  _ you!” _

Orion opens his mouth to speak, and shuts it again.

Megatron continues relentlessly. “All you thought about was what would be best for you and what  _ you  _ wanted!”

“No! I--”

_ “Your  _ version of the Cause!  _ Your  _ name in the Council’s good books! I put up with your weakening of what I believe for long enough. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of  _ you!” _

Pax is silent for a moment. “Trust me, I’m not that excited about you either right now,” he says finally, his voice blank and tired.

“It doesn’t matter,” Megatron spits. “You are no longer part of the Decepticon Cause, Orion Pax.”

__ “How do you get to decide that?” Orion shouts. “You don’t get to decide that. I’m just as much in charge as you.”

“And what have you done with that? You’ve destroyed us! We’ll have to start from scratch--”

Orion stamps his pede in an uncharacteristic display of impatience. “You’re so  _ stubborn.  _ ‘Ruined the Cause’-- you’re overreacting, and you know it.”

“I have a right to be angry!” Megatron snaps. “How do you look at what you’ve done and feel no shame?”

“I don’t feel shame!” Orion yells. “I don’t have to! I did what I had to do!”

“You hide behind your goodness, Orion Pax,” Megatron says, disgusted.

Orion huffs. “What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

“What do you think I mean?! You think that you can claim the final say in every matter you’ve ever so much as glanced at!”

Orion sputters in rage. “You-- you were willing to sacrifice so many in the pursuit of your goal! How could you not see that that was wrong?”

Megatron, infuriated, throws another mech to the side. “How can you not see that it was  _ necessary?” _

“No cause is worth people’s lives!” Orion shouts, climbing down from the stage.

“The Cause was made with the intention of  _ saving  _ the lives of ordinary Cybertronians who would suffer under the current system!” Megatron roars, moving toward him with anger-fueled speed. “And _ you _ want to tear that down!”

“We’ve gone over this so many times--” Orion snarls. 

“And yet you don’t seem to understand,” Megatron spits, pointing a finger at the smaller mech’s chest.

“Get out of my face,” Orion says quietly, lifting his head to stare at Megatron.

“You’re  _ selfish,  _ Orion.”

“Get out of my  _ face,”  _ Orion repeats, stepping closer.

“You ruined everything!” Megatron shouts, leaning closer to enunciate the words. “And you expect me to accept that!”

He puts his hand squarely on Orion’s chest, and Orion snaps.

He swings his arm up and knocks Megatron’s hand to the side; Megatron is caught off guard enough for Orion to shove him, hard, and send him stumbling back.

Oh, yes.

Megatron’s pit fighting instincts snap online, and he takes stock of his surroundings in an instant. His back is to the wall of a storefront, some sort of bunker, and there are approximately fourteen mecha within attack range. Any one of them could become a potential enemy. Orion stands before him.

Before Orion can realize the consequences of his actions, Megatron enacts them. Growling, he lunges forward and grabs Orion by the shoulders, swings him around, and slams him into the same wall. The crowd lets out a surprised murmur, backing away; perhaps they know of Megatron and do not wish to be in the vicinity of his impromptu pit fight.

Orion, however, is not cowed. He pulls his pede back and kicks at Megatron’s knee viciously, making the joint stick and send bolts of pain shooting up Megatron’s leg. As he shouts in pain, Orion kicks him again before Megatron can react, hitting the same knee joint, and ducks out from under his hands. He’d learned since the days when Megatron had to save him from Kaon street robbers.

Megatron had just never thought Orion would be using his gladiator training on  _ him. _

At this point, Orion has forced him back against the same wall of the bunker, and it is becoming tiresome.

“Enough, Pax,” he growls, and advances. 

He doesn’t even fully register that his sword has extended until he sees Orion’s eyes change. Shock, realization, determination, and anger travel across the mech’s face in a matter of seconds.

Orion yells and runs at him, slams into Megatron’s abdomen with his full weight, and sends the two of them falling backward into the bunker, the door flying open and the two of them landing inside with a crash.

Megatron gets to his feet.

“Get out!” he snarls at the mech inside, and slams the door behind him as she hurries outside.

Orion is climbing to his feet as well, his eyes still panicked and his posture wary.

“Are you done?” Megatron demands.

“Are  _ you  _ done?”

“This is ridiculous.”

_ “You’re  _ ridiculous. I can’t believe you ruined the rally like that.” Orion’s face is still weighted with anger, his fists clenched.

“What are you going to do about it?” Megatron says, putting his hands on his hips.

“It was your rally, too,” Orion spits. “Your people. Your  _ everything.  _ Do you really think a split is what we need right now?”

“There is no  _ we,”  _ Megatron sneers. “You lost your chance at a  _ we.  _ These  _ are  _ my people, you’re right. The difference is that they’re not  _ yours.” _

Orion steps closer to him. He can’t seem to help himself, Megatron notes with a pang of remembrance, as if the two of them were just having another low-stakes argument in the Kaon underbelly. There’s no hesitation. 

He ignores the fact that everything in him was pushing to mirror the smaller mech, to return his unspoken offer at a reconciliation, however small.

“I’m braver than you are, you know,” Orion says. “For all your talk. All your posturing in the Pit. I’m willing to try to keep going at this even though you’re angry at me, because-- because I actually see the Cause. I know it’s bigger than you and I.”

Megatron fumes in silence. What can he say? How can he explain that the Cause is, to him,  _ only  _ the two of them?

Only the two of them, and the hurt they’re doing to each other.

Orion had been one half of the Cause, and no matter what he said it was rifting now. He was becoming his own Cause. 

“You have no power here anymore,” Megatron says instead. “You may have begun this rally, but I will see to it that you’ll never start another. Not here.” He glares down at Orion. “Not in Kaon. You can have your rallies in Iacon, up on the steps of the great Halls, and all the rich Praxians on holiday and the pretty Vosians can listen. Go preach to them.”

“You’re being  _ incredibly  _ dense.” 

Megatron wants to reach out and throttle Orion, and it shakes him to realize that he’s entertaining the idea. 

“I don’t mind speaking in Iacon, anyway,” Orion continues balefully. “Primus knows  _ you  _ never did.”

“I certainly spoke in Iacon,” Megatron hisses. “Up on the Council floor for two hours until  _ you  _ took it all away!”

“Can you  _ please  _ look beyond your own wounded pride for  _ one second!”  _ Orion shouts, his fists balling once again. “What happened to you? Why is everything changing?”

Megatron doesn’t want to believe that he’s hearing what he’s hearing, but Orion has said it. He doesn’t understand. He won’t understand. Not ever.

“Changing?” he says, shaking his head. “It’s already changed, Pax. The second you stepped on that floor.”

Orion shakes his head. “I refuse to believe that. I refuse to accept it.”

“What part don’t you accept?” Megatron laughs bitterly. “What don’t you understand about what I just told you?”

“You and I-- we mean something,” Orion says stubbornly. “We can’t lose all that. Not for one day, not for one thing.”

Megatron stiffens, his plating flaring out almost against his will as Orion comes closer, a hand trailing down Megatron’s arm. He looks down at the mech, his face set in a scowl that doesn’t phase Orion at all.

“I’m not going to lose all that,” Orion repeats.

Megatron huffs. 

“Are  _ you, _ Megatron?” Pax stares up at him.  _ Megatron,  _ he’d said. A challenge in his eyes and on his tongue. 

Pax doesn’t understand. 

He will never understand.  _ Not for one thing,  _ he’d said.  _ Not for one day.  _ But his  _ one day  _ had destroyed countless other days. 

Megatron knows this. He  _ knows  _ he can’t allow this mech to win. He can’t let him try and smooth something over that has been irreversibly ruptured. 

But Orion’s optics glow softly in the muted dark of the bunker and his face is open and searching and his hand lays, still, on Megatron’s arm. Unafraid, Megatron notes. Like always. Orion has never been afraid of him and he isn’t now.

“Pax,” he growls warningly. But his bite, his  _ edge  _ is gone. 

Orion’s hand closes around Megatron’s arm. He tugs, just slightly.

“Pax,” Megatron repeats. It’s a whisper now, he can’t-- he can’t bring himself to remember clearly enough why he couldn’t  _ do  _ this. Do-- what his spark was beating for, thrumming softly out of the confines of his armor toward the mech who-- who--

“Megatron,” Orion says quietly, and his other hand closes around Megatron’s cannon arm. He has Megatron closed in, and it’s. . .

“Orion,” Megatron hisses, and the last of his strength recedes as Orion manages to steal him away from his high ground.

The anger doesn’t fade, but it changes-- Megatron feels its warmth surround him and carry him through the change in priorities. He is still undeniably, unbelievably,  _ irreversibly  _ angry at Orion.

What he does with it, however, can be worked with.

He lets himself go to one knee, then the next-- Orion is at face height with him now, and his hands leave Megatron’s arms to wrap, cautiously, around the sides of his head.

“Once more, Orion,” Megatron says warningly. “Once more. For the old times.” His spark thrums with the anger and the thread of want that surrounds it. “Do you understand?”

Orion looks him in the eye, his face set and calm.

“Do you?” he asks.

Megatron snarls, lunges forward, and kisses him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Look at him. _

Megatron sits up, his elbow joint creaking with a still-unacknowledged pain from the last pit fight. Orion lies there next to him, peacefully offline, recharging.

_ So trusting,  _ Megatron thinks, disgusted. Like this was just another one of their trysts-- early mornings in the library, overcharged fumblings at night. Orion, somehow, still does not believe that Megatron is his enemy.

Or if he does, he is not acting as such yet.

Megatron rolls back onto his back and vents harshly. He can’t do this again, obviously. Orion Pax had placed himself firmly against the beliefs of the Decepticon cause and he is charismatic enough, galvanizing enough to sway others to his side. 

Any more interaction with Orion would be dangerous. 

Megatron can’t let himself be weak.

_ Primus, why did he do it? _

But fixating on the past and the council will do Megatron no good. Neither will wistful thinking on how useful Orion would have been if he had remained a Decepticon. 

Megatron glances over at him again. If he lets Orion go free, he will only continue to stir up trouble. He will go off and start another rally, but this time it will be under a different insignia and another name. Decepticons will peel off and integrate into his ranks. 

If worst comes to worst, Orion may very well end up being the only thing stopping Megatron from his goals of planet-wide change.

Megatron knows all this is true, and he knows that one night of hate-fueled passion between the two of them will not stop Pax in his quest to achieve what he believes is  _ right,  _ is  _ good.  _ Orion will keep working against him.

He is a threat.

He is a danger.

Orion Pax must be killed.

Megatron gets up and begins to walk the room, knowing that Orion will not awaken-- recharge takes him strongly. Megatron is free to pace, to roam, even to leave.

Free to unsheath his blade straight into Pax’s spark and watch as light leaked from it and died, free to sit and witness the greying of his paint.

He sighs.

It shouldn’t have had to come to this, but it did, and now he must do something about it before Orion turns against him for good. As the leader of his Decepticons, he can’t allow himself to betray them for a moment of sentimentality. 

Megatron unsheathes his blade.

Three steps and he’s at Orion’s side. The tip of the blade, as he draws it up to rest on Orion’s chestplate, is lit by the soft glow of the mech’s biolights.

He draws it down the slight curve of Orion’s chest. The tiniest of sparks leap from the scrape of metal on metal until the point of the blade stands where he knows, all too well, where Orion’s spark is.

He considers, for a moment, just puncturing the relatively fragile material of Orion’s chestplate and ripping his spark out by hand. Orion had had his armor reinforced after a few years of regular Kaon visits, but it was nothing that Megatron couldn’t tear to pieces with his claws. One move, and it would be too late for Orion to do anything.

It would be more personal than the sword, too. To have your hand on your enemy’s spark as it fades is an experience Megatron appreciates, and one that suits Orion’s betrayal. 

He resheathes his blade and places his hand squarely on Orion’s chest, feeling the soft vibration of his spark. A clench of his hand inwards would be all it took.

Orion has to die.

There is no denying this. Orion. Is. Dangerous.

Megatron’s fingers tighten on the mech’s chestplate, drawing scratches down that leave deeper marks. Pax stiffens in his sleep, and Megatron knows the pain is awakening him-- it’s either now or never. 

He needs to kill Orion Pax.

But if he needs it so badly, he wonders, why has his hand rebelliously stilled?

_ Unicron take him.  _ He can’t do it, not when the memory of Pax is so fresh and soft with the good things. Right now, even knowing that Orion will destroy the Cause is not enough. Remembering that awful day at the Council is not enough.

That day at the Council, when Orion had promised to stand up for him and instead had replaced all the words they’d practiced over and over with his own. Inserting all the ideals that Megatron had explained, over and _over,_ wouldn’t work for their Cause. Selling _his_ version of the Decepticons to the Council, who had eaten it up eagerly, ready to accept this palatable, safe, _weak_ idea of what the Decepticons could be. The entire reason they had even _gone_ to the Council had been to negotiate terms, bring about some meaningful changes to the laws currently in place that were stopping them from achieving their entire goal. The Council had seen the Decepticons as a threat, and were willing to work with Megatron and Orion to change that-- now, with Orion’s interference, they _didn’t._ Orion had ruined _months_ of work, perhaps even years, and all for-- for what? For what he _believed?_

If Megatron really wants to, he can convince himself that Orion had done it for the influence, that he had wanted a Primacy and had been lying to Megatron this entire time just to get a ticket to the Council’s door. 

Well, they were certainly offering him a Primacy now, but even Megatron’s bitterness isn’t strong enough to believe that that had been what Orion wanted.

However, it was what he got.

“You should not have fallen asleep, Pax,” he says aloud.

Orion’s optics began to blink online.

Megatron climbs back onto the recharge slab and kneels above Orion’s body. He unsheathes his blade once more. 

Orion awakens. He looks up at Megatron, and the confusion radiates off of him.

“Megatronus?” he says.

Megatron snarls and lunges forward, trapping Orion’s arms underneath each of his knees. Orion’s eyes widen in realization and fear, and he begins kicking at what he could reach of Megatron’s back, struggling as much as he could. Megatron shrugs the blows off, leans down to be as face-to-face as he can be with the mech.

“This is exactly what you should have expected,” he spits. “Why would you fall asleep around your enemy?”

“So you are my enemy now?” Orion grunts. “Is that how far we’ve fallen?”

“ _ You _ did this,” Megatron declares, outraged.  _ “You _ betrayed me.”

“Megatron,  _ think.  _ I’m not your enemy!”

“You are a threat,” Megatron says. “It does not matter whether or not you believe yourself to be.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Orion asks, his feet dropping. He seems strangely calm at the prospect. Perhaps he realizes that he can do little to prevent it. 

Megatron is silent. He  _ should.  _ He would not get this opportunity again. 

Who does he care for more, his Decepticons or Orion Pax?

It stings to realize that even in the midst of his hatred, he is not indifferent enough to Orion’s fate to kill him where he lay.

“I will give you a reminder,” he hisses, “to be careful of who you trust.”

He grabs Orion’s head in one hand and slams it down against the berth. Orion’s eyes go wide, his expression tense and his dentae clenched as he struggles once more. Megatron digs the points of his fingers into Orion’s helm and lifts his other hand with the exposed blade to rest against Orion’s eye.

Orion’s vents are roaring, and he is trembling with the effort to escape from underneath Megatron’s hand. He looks more angry than scared.

The tip of the blade punctures the plating underneath Orion’s eye as easily as if it were cutting through fabric-- the mech bucks and scrapes at Megatron and goes stiff, his vocoder leaking static. Megatron continues, shoving the point in deeper and cutting around the side of the optic.

Orion  _ snarls  _ at him, his efforts to get away doubling. His body starts to shake more violently as the blood spills from the deep cuts Megatron makes, pooling and dripping over his optic. 

Then, as Megatron makes yet another stab into the plating around his eye, making the smooth surface crumple inwards with wet sounds and snaps of broken wires, Pax begins to scream. 

They’re short screams, gasping and heavy with pain, and Megatron is overwhelmed by the sound. He’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t ever wondered what the archivist’s voice would sound like in the grip of pain that his pampered life had never offered him. Orion’s voice, so familiar, blends into screams that puts Megatron’s tensions higher, ramps up his senses and tells him he is in the Pit once more; Orion is another enemy, weakened and ready for the defeating blow.

Megatron makes the final cut into the far side of Orion’s eye, and digs his fingers into the four incisions left behind. Orion’s screams become shaky and panicked, and Megatron finds it easy to push deeper and curl his fingers inward until he is fairly sure he holds what he wants. His sharpened talons cut through the gouges easily, and with a final twist of his hand he is holding Orion’s optic, dripping blood back onto the mech’s face.

Orion gasps, his voice breaking and shattering into noises of pure pain. He falls back against the berth, his arms and legs limp, and his head relaxes to the side almost, it seems, against his will.

Megatron looks down at him and feels only the empty realization of a job completed. He releases his grip on Orion’s head and takes the mech’s jaw in his fingers instead.

Orion stares up at him, one side of his face destroyed and bleeding from his empty optic cavity. He opens his mouth, as if he were going to say something, but the ruined mess of his left optic sparks and twitches as if the mechanisms had tried to perform a task, and his face dissolves into pain once more. 

“Go back to sleep, Pax,” Megatron says disgustedly, and strikes him across the helm. Orion’s head snaps to the side, and his remaining optic powers down.

“Hold still.”

Orion, who had cringed away from the end of Ratchet’s scalpel, forces his rebellious pistons back into stillness. “I’m sorry,” he says woodenly.

“Don’t be, Orion.” Ratchet sighs, shaking his head. “It’s no wonder you don’t want anything near your eye right now, but we need to get the excess wiring out before it solders into the base. Once it’s a clean socket, we can replace the optic.”

“I know.” Orion clenches his fists as Ratchet approaches the socket again, staring up at the ceiling.

Ratchet looks down at him after a moment. “What did you two even do?”

Orion is silent. 

“He just. . . did this?”

“Don’t act like you’re surprised,” Orion says bitterly. “You hate him.”

Ratchet barks out a laugh. “And you don’t?”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand why he did this, no.”

“That’s not an answer, Orion.” Ratchet pats him gently on the chest, his scalpel continuing to move and scrape out the burnt edges of wires in Orion’s optic.

“What do you want me to say?” Orion asks tiredly, forcing himself to settle, to let the strained girders in his legs relax. Ratchet is a friend. Ratchet is  _ safe. _

“I want you to-- Primus, Orion. I want you to realize what he did,” Ratchet snaps. “He tore out your fragging eye.”

“Yes, Ratchet, I  _ know.” _

“Then  _ act  _ like it. You’d think you were coming home from a night of partying too hard.” Ratchet says, sounding disgusted. “Are you really that confident in his  _ goodness?” _

“I’m actually not,” Orion says stiffly.

Ratchet is silent for a while. Perhaps he realizes that pressing Orion further would be nothing but counterproductive.

He’s perceptive like that, Ratchet is. After all, he’d never trusted Megatronus. Not for a minute. 

Not like Orion. Because Orion had trusted him, up until the moment that he couldn’t anymore, and what had it cost him?

A lot more than an eye. 

_ He hadn’t hesitated,  _ Orion thinks, furious, his body tensing up once again as the pain becomes near unbearable.  _ He hadn’t listened. Megatron had torn out his eye. His  _ eye.

It was obvious that Megatron had been right, saying they were enemies. He’d known it a long time before Orion had. He’d even tried to tell him, but Orion-- Orion had been a fool, a sentimental fool, and he’d been too focused on trying to fix things to see that they were already irreparable.

They were enemies now.

Maybe they had already been enemies for a long time. 

Ratchet curses under his breath.

“What is it?” Orion asks, trying to stay still.

“Slagger cut into the olfactory sensors,” Ratchet mutters. “Don’t worry, Orion. It’ll just mean a longer fix. I’ll put you under.”

“I don’t want to go under.”

“Orion.” Ratchet fixes him with a stare. “I promise, I will let nothing happen to you. You’re safe and among friends. And I am not letting you go through this without pain dullers, not after what happened.”

Orion sighs and manages to accept it. “Thank you, Ratchet.”

“Damn right you should thank me,” Ratchet huffs, turning away. “I’m the only one who fragging cares about your safety and well being, seems like.”

“I--”

“Shush,” Ratchet instructs. “You’ll be repaired once I bring you up.”

“Thank you,” Orion repeats dully, and offlines his eye as Ratchet opens up his panels to shut his systems down.

His last thoughts before he goes under are muddled by the pain.

Megatron keeps the optic.

Not for long. A piece of Cybertronian tech severed from its host only has a few weeks to stay in good condition-- shorter, if it’s as delicate as an eye. But he keeps it. After all, he thinks, he has to. 

It’s not like Orion will miss it.

The next time they see each other, Megatron knows, Orion will have a brand new optic, flawlessly integrated into his hardware and so expertly repaired that no one will ever be able to tell that it is not the optic he was forged with. All the best doctors in Iacon will have swarmed to his side to treat the wound-- and with Ratchet at his disposal, he might not even need all of them. Orion will live his life normally, at least until he does something else stupid that will make someone else hurt him.

Which he will, because he’s Orion. 

Megatron remembers a time, before he was a gladiator and had access to at least passable repairs, when he had broken off an arm in a fight. He’d had to wait four months for the closest doctor to find the parts necessary to repair him, and when he had, it had cost him more credits than he could pay back. He’d gone into servitude to the doctor, working as a guard and beating off desperate mecha from her door.

To this day, the joint still creaked and stuck when it was drier than normal.

He had thought of this before, back in the first days of his and Orion’s relationship when he had accidentally twisted one of the fingers of Orion’s hand (so much smaller than his own-- Iacon mecha weren’t built to last in Kaon, as Orion had ruefully reminded him). He had been shocked and upset and apologized, offering to pay for his repairs. 

After all, as a gladiator, he could afford it. As  _ Megatronus,  _ the gladiator that everyone loved and adored, he could pay for his own repairs, and Orion’s too. 

Now, he knows, Orion had just gone to the Kaon doctor to appease him. If he had wanted to, he could have gone back to Iacon and had his hand fixed flawlessly in a matter of minutes.

It had been a good day, though-- the two of them sitting in the grimy waiting room and debating theory, making edits and sharing new pieces of work. 

All for nothing.

For some reason, Megatron cannot let go of the nagging idea that perhaps, it had been a mistake to leave the mech alive. To make such an enemy out of a potentially threatening opponent.

Orion’s severed optic watches him.

He had lost a friend and lover, Megatron knows, but he had gained something much more dangerous. It will be hard to continue with the Cause now-- Orion will do  _ something,  _ Primus knows what, and work against Megatron. 

Megatron should have killed him.

_ Next time,  _ he promises himself.  _ Next chance. _

The next time Orion Pax and Megatron met, it would be as enemies.


End file.
